I failed

Man, so this blog has been kind of sucking. Dude, admit it. You hardly read it. You aren’t ensconced with the wordy, didactic, half thoughts of yr drunken pseudo friend who waxes about shit only 15 year old kids should think about. I’ve been kind of a fuck up, weekly pushing out sleepy ideas about music and culture. Awesome. There is so much more to read on this awesome internet, where we all get to be deep hearted, special, amazing individuals, spilling our guts out. Right.

Music over the past few weeks has been an experience in frustration. A look into my last.fm profile reveals not much in the way of new exploration. I should say that as I type this idiotic rambling, I am listening to Against Me!’s As the Eternal Cowboy, which I must admit is an album I haven’t listened to in a while. It’s a bit of a shame, because it’s twenty five minutes of bright, rhythm guitar work, solid druming and steady bass playing with lyrics that are pretty fucking good befor Tom Gabel got too high to wrote good, feverish music. I am not putting them down for selling out, just getting old before their time. Whatever. I beleived in this band. I don’t any more. It happens.

Being an artist though, it’s all this judgement from a fast moving, finicky public. All these kids consuming everything at the spead of light. Human minds and bodies and understanding don’t move that fast. But this screen in front on you does. At your meek little finger tips is access to pretty much every figure blessed enough to have a computer and intrigued enough by it to spill their pee brain little bits of bullshit out on to it. We hide now in public. That’s nothing new. It’s not even an art form. I have 90 facebook friends, none of who call me, but several of which have seem me laugh, cry, vomit or shared hugs and kisses or the deepest moments of their lives.

Music is all that I have. It’s the whole point of this stupid fucking journal (with the exception of de-evolution into movie criticism). I have to bash out about something, because behind this screen is not a reflection of who I am, but the simple refraction of all these idiotic, vulnerable but useless pieces of my life. No one cares. I don’t blame them. I don’t care that much either. It’s just the passing of electricity and energy captured in history and passed to me by whatever means I can find to put it in the air. But it’s all I have. It’s all that has ever captured my attention with any regularity. With any consistancy. With any power. Some people have much more pressing, awesome and inspiring things that move them and they follow them and fucking rip the shit out of them. Some of those people I know, though I vaugely see them now, and am so proud of all the things that they have accomplished. Me, I have listend to a lot of music. Not enough for me, but a fair bit of the chaos created by people who are probably slightly less fucked up then I am.

I hope to find that ultimate noise, that ultimate note, that ultimate note or sound or song one day. I hope to tap into it and find the rest that I want so badly. Some times the chaotic insanity that I find makes me worry about myself. Sometimes the simplistic but furious power chord punk rock music makes me feel stupid. Sometimes the whiny, self cetnered accoustic artist makes me feel snobbish and tired. But sometimes I can’t get enough and I freak out a little bit. It’s all I really know, with any authority, because it is strictly me. That is pretty imature and selfish, but it is what I have. There isn’t a whole lot I can do about that.

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One thought on “I failed

  1. I will totally admit it…. I forgot blogs existed…. I was too busy fixing up a house and recovering from things like almost cutting off my thumb and cursing that they don’t air redskins games down here.Bidwell

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